


Prelude ~ The Room of Spirit and Time

by Nova (Ars_Nova)



Category: Dragon Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ars_Nova/pseuds/Nova
Summary: This was gonna be an intro for a bigger project, but the rest of it didn't crystallize.
Kudos: 1





	Prelude ~ The Room of Spirit and Time

It would be a familiar scene for some: a small, domed dwelling, flanked on either side by tremendous hourglasses full of green sand. White marble tiles stretching out about a yard from beneath a yellow-capped awning. And then…nothing. Void. An endless, formless, featureless expanse. It would take either great nerve or great faith to step down from that white marble and find that, in fact, the void did not give way beneath one’s feet. It could be traversed, but it never was, for sacred laws forbid it. Laws that bound all living things—save for a special few.

A door within the dwelling creaked open. Light from outside did not spill into the room; it could not, for it had no place there. Still, as Dende poked his head through the threshold, he found everything perfectly visible, as if darkness simply did not exist in this place. He stepped through, scanning his surroundings. The room he’d entered was furnished with basic amenities: a refrigerator, a bathtub, beds for two. He pondered only for a moment how the fridge got electricity, or the bath water.

“So,” came a voice from behind him, deep and husky and gentle. “How do you feel?”

Dende hopped in place a few times before answering. “Fine. I don’t feel any heavier.”

“Yes, I can never quite figure out the gravity in this place. What of the view?”

“I’m…trying not to look.” Dende found himself lacking the nerve.

“Of course,” Popo chuckled, appearing in the doorway behind him. “Kami was nervous at first, too.”

“He was?”

Kami—a title assumed by the former guardian of Earth. Dende’s predecessor. They had never met in the flesh; Dende had once seen a reflection of him in a familiar face, but never more than that. It was before his time. He looked back at Mr. Popo, centuries-old attendant of the Lookout, who wore the same serene expression as always. The man had accepted him without qualm, even offered him the title of Kami, but he had refused. It seemed to him like a custom of his Earth-bound kin, something he had not earned.

“Oh my, yes,” Popo continued. “Every guardian was young and inexperienced once. That’s why I’m here.”

“So it’s true. You’re bound to this place.” A pang of sympathy gripped him. “It must be lonely.”

Popo’s smile faltered for an instant, before returning wider and warmer than before. “Not so at all. Not when I have such kind, caring souls for company.”

Dende returned the smile, heart at ease. He watched as Popo stepped forward, out to the edge of the dwelling and effortlessly beyond. His feet stood on nothing, but held firm regardless. Then he beckoned to the young Namekian.

“Come now. Nothing to fear, see? Besides, you can fly!”

With a flush of shame, Dende realized that he had forgotten. It eased his worry a bit; even so, staring out into the boundless white, it seemed as though it could swallow him whole. He looked down for a moment, taking a deep breath, and when he looked back up he focused on Popo’s feet and where he stood. One in front of the other, he coached himself. Easy. Every guardian’s done it, you can too. Come on, Dende. One, two…

Tap. Tap. Tap. _Pshhh._

Dende opened his eyes. He had clenched them shut before stepping over the edge, and now that he could see straight down his heart skipped a beat. He froze in place, afraid that if he moved he might suddenly tumble over the edge, flightless as a newborn, but moments passed and his body held firm. It was only when Popo’s hand found his shoulder that he realized how tense he’d become.

“Splendidly done. This way, if you please.”

Without another word, Popo turned and strode off into the distance. After a few more cautious steps, Dende summoned his courage and followed. Better to brave the emptiness than be left alone in it.

* * *

Time, Dende had been told, had a sort of meandering way in this place. It had previously been said that one day outside was the equivalent of a year inside—both for convenience’s sake, and because it generally held true. But as Popo had explained to him at some point, this was a simplified version of the truth: the laws of the universe held tenuous sway here, and the forces they governed were always in flux, only more so the farther one went from the point of entry. This, presumably, is why their comrades had been warned against staying for too long or venturing too far out. It had served their purposes—but the principal reason for its existence remained a mystery. A mystery, Popo had explained just earlier today, that the guardians of Earth were beholden to, and one they were entitled to have revealed to them when ready.

So it was that Popo invited his young attendee into the chamber, and for this reason they had been walking longer than Dende cared to estimate. Popo had not turned back or spoken to him since they embarked, and he dared not fall behind for fear of losing sight of his guide, if such a thing was possible. At last, after what could have been minutes or hours or weeks, Popo spoke.

“Look around you. Do you notice anything different?”

Dende obeyed, taking stock of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed with a start is that the chamber where they entered had seemingly vanished from sight; he couldn’t spy it behind him, or anywhere else for that matter. Then, as he strained his eyes for something of note, it occurred to him that the once clear, empty realm had filled with fog. It gathered in thick, twisting sheets, as if to mark passageways all around them. Popo appeared to be following one, though until now Dende had thought they were walking in a straight line.

“Are we… Is this a road of some kind?”

“Good eye,” Popo mused. “Indeed, there are paths to be traversed within the swell.”

“If there are paths, then…where do they lead?”

“Hoho! Now you’re thinking like a guardian.” Popo glanced back at him and winked. He appreciated the gesture, even if his unease kept him from showing it. The two carried on in silence for another few moments, until he wondered if Popo had forgotten the question. Then at last came a response. “I suppose, if a path must lead somewhere, then there are many… _somewheres_ here. Though one wonders if they count as somewhere other than where we came from.”

Being escorted halfway across the galaxy to a planet he’d only seen once, for the span of a week, and not known existed before then, to preside over several billion of a species totally foreign to his own had come with its fair share of confusion, but nothing quite so confusing as that reply. When Popo did not elaborate, however, Dende let it go without a fuss. Popo was nothing if not patient, and had taken pains not to overwhelm him in his new duty; perhaps this was just another strangeness that he’d understand in time.

“So…is this what you wanted to show me?”

"Not quite." Popo stopped for the first time since leaving the safety of the chamber, scratching his chin. "Truth be told, I was unsure if we’d find anything at all. Though, with a little luck…”

Suddenly, something caught Popo’s eye off to his right, and he raised his hand slowly and began to wave. Dende tried to follow his gaze. Was there someone out there? All he could see was fog… No. Wait. In the direction Popo had turned to face, some distance away, a dark patch stood in silhouette. It pushed forward, the cloudy white giving way until a figure became visible: a tall, robed man bearing a crooked staff, his pigment only a shade or so from Dende’s. When Dende saw this, his eyes grew wider than he'd thought they could. Popo, for his part, let out a cry of relief at the stranger’s approach.

“It is good to see you again,” he said, his voice cracking in a rare loss of composure.

“Ah, indeed. Then, I take it this young fellow is my successor?”


End file.
